by Rina Kent
“Last chance, mouse.” His voice grows far as if he’s speaking from another dimension.
I smile. I’m losing him.
Damn the psycho. What’s with lamb and mouse?
I’ll turn into a snake and bite him in the face.
Aching pain kicks back into my muscles. Is this corridor ever going to end?
After what seems like hours, irregular long stairs come into view. My heart thunders with something different than tiredness.
Joy. Hope. Success.
Yes!
I leap to the stairs, ending the nightmare.
“It took you long enough.”
I jump back, yelping.
A dark silhouette appears from my right. Out of freaking nowhere.
Icy coldness washes over my core.
No, no, no...this can’t be happening.
Was he waiting for me the entire time?
I blink a few times, trying to make out a face. The darkness allows me to only decipher a contour of my kidnapper’s imposing physique. I can’t possibly mistake that height and those broad shoulders.
My limited vision darts between him and the stairs.
I spring to the sole possible exit.
My feet touch the first step when I’m yanked back by a strong tug on my hair. Burning pain explodes in my scalp as my back hits something warm and solid. An unrestrained scream pierces the silence and echoes down the hallway. My scream.
Tears spring to my eyes, but I refuse to either look at him or admit defeat. I stomp on his foot, hoping he will release my hair.
He doesn’t. His grip pulls harshly until I’m forced to tilt my head back to ease the pressure.
His features are still shrouded in darkness. My fingers fly to his hand, and I claw at it. No reaction. As if a mosquito bit him.
One hand gripping my hair, his other yanks and secures both of my wrists behind my back.
“Stop.” He speaks in the only composed voice he seems to own. “I may not seem like it, but I’m actually pissed off right now. You don’t want to aggravate your situation, Mae.”
My lips tremble. Not only at the unbearable pain at the roots of my hair and the building pressure on my wrists, but also at the fact that I failed my escape and possibly signed my death certificate.
He lifts and throws me over his shoulder. My head dangles on his back. The act so effortless as if he’s carrying an empty bag.
I squeal and thrash in his grasp. My legs kick at his chest, my hands hit his back and shoulders. Anywhere I can reach. If I’ll die, may as well do it while I fight.
His grasp on my thighs tightens, so hard, I’m momentarily paralysed.
“I can drag you by the hair if you find the idea tempting.”
My limbs freeze.
I’m such a coward. Seconds ago, I was going to die fighting. But the simple thought of the biting pain turns me into an obedient fool.
With the position I’m carried in, my head’s veins almost pop at the amount of blood rushing into them. I have to clutch the sides of his shirt to stop my head from hitting his back at every move. I’m acutely aware of my breasts pressing against the warmth of his back muscles. I curse myself for not resenting it.
A mixture of musk and cedar scent creeps into my nose as my kidnapper’s steady strides lead us through the dark grey corridors. Oddly enough, they don’t turn into ghosts of the dark. But again, they never do when I have company.
“So what happens to me now?” I’m proud that my voice comes out normal.
The hushed sound of his shoes fills the silence. It tightens my stomach and raises my pulse even more than words.
“Are you going to kill me?”
Again, no answer.
“Torture me?”
Nothing.
“Would you say something?” I shout, gripping his shirt harder.
“Shut up or I will make you.” His gentleman’s voice takes an irritated turn.
I’m smart enough to abide by his threat. The rest of the walk is spent in deafening silence. Only the sound of my heartbeat buzzing in my ears keeps me company.
Images of butchered dead girls come back to haunt me. Will I be one of them soon?
Don’t go there, Mae. Don’t.
We enter the box-like room, and he kicks the door shut with his foot. I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but I’ll take the faint light in this room before the darkness outside any time.
He puts me to my feet with a gentle gesture as if I’m a precious prize.
Maybe I am.
Perhaps he’s one of those psycho killers who, by killing their victims, think they’re doing them a favour.
He’s wearing a tuxedo’s black trousers and a dress shirt. The refined-looking material screams status and wealth. He’s not a stereotype kidnapper, is he?
Trails of blood travelling from his forehead to the left side of his neck, soaking his white collar.
I did that?
A smudge of remorse tugs at my chest. Never in my life have I been violent. But he made me. I had to hit him or I would’ve died.
I’m dying anyway now.
He fixates me with glassy grim eyes, I stare back as if I was captured by the devil.
Hell. I probably am.
He stalks towards me, the same way he did the night he took me outside the nightclub. Only this time, I don’t back away.
“I gave you a valuable piece of advice and warned you against provoking me.” He stops a few inches closer. “Yet, you chose to disobey.”
“What did you expect, huh?” I throw my hands in the air, my voice anything but scared. “Did you think that I’ll wait for you to kill me like a lamb for slaughter? I told you that’s not going to happen, mister!”
He hums. My stomach sinks.
I need to stop the sassy attitude. It’s not playing in my favour at all.
His bottomless eyes bore into mine. He doesn’t move for several seconds, unblinking, as if he’s in the middle of watching the best scene in a film.
What could occupy a psycho’s mind, anyway?
“What are you thinking about?” I blurt before I can stop my mouth.
“A suitable way to punish you.” His gaze never leaves mine.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “A-Are you going to torture me?”
He nods, slow and deliberate, a smirk curving his lips.
Oh, God. I can’t take pain.
I open my mouth to argue when the only source of light in the room goes black. The whole place submits to punishing darkness. My heart slumps to my feet.
Don’t panic, Mae. Breathe in. Breathe out.
On instinct, my hands reach out until my fingertips brush against the material of my kidnapper’s shirt. I clutch it tight, edging closer.
“What’s going on?” My whisper haunts my own ears.
No answer.
No matter how stupid it is, both of my hands encircle his thick arm. I wish it’s Dad. No safety whatsoever comes from touching this man. But I get to focus on something other than the figures emerging from the black veil surrounding us.
A few moments later, yellowish light casts all over the room. I release a long sigh. I’ve never liked anything more than the dusty light-bulb.
“You’re afraid of the dark.”
My head strays to my kidnapper. I drop his arm and clear my throat.
His eyes glint. The same mysterious you’re-in-trouble sparkle he gave me yesterday. His lips curve int
o a devilish smirk, the clotted blood on his forehead accentuating his monstrosity. “Interesting.”
Why do I feel like I screwed up? Even worse than failing to run?
The last thing I see is him placing his hand in his trousers’ pocket before the room plunges into darkness.
I blink twice. No, it isn’t my imagination. My eyes are well and truly open. The damn place is black all over again.
“Come on!” I shout, voice shaky as my arms reach out for him.
Some of my tension dissipates when my fingers connect with the soft material of his shirt. I cling to his arm as if it was a life line. In all honesty, it is.
I hate myself for selecting him as my anchor— for the second time in a row. I don’t have a choice, though. It’s either him or the ghosts waiting to swallow me.
One monster is better than a horde of them.
“Let’s see how far you will fall, kitten.”
“Huh?” I tilt my head, arguing with my vision to capture his features or a shape of anything.
Nothing. As if the colour black chose this place as residence.
His arm slips from between my sweaty fingers. The void sends a jolt of trembles through my nerves. I move forward. “Aaron...?” My spooked voice freezes my spine.
Click.
No, no, no, no, no...
That wasn’t the door. He didn’t leave me here alone. He didn’t.
“Aaron?” My voice’s louder.
Silence. Imposing, terrifying silence.
“AARON!” I dash through thick layers of black to where I remember the door to be.
Once my hands connect with a metal surface, I pound it. “Where did you go? Come back!”
I pound, punch, and kick the door. Again. And again. I’m at it for so long that my palms sting, my knuckles explode with pain, and my frozen feet beg to be put out of their misery.
He’s not coming back.
He really left me. Alone. In a black world. The same blackness of the cave I got trapped in when I was a little girl.
I can’t survive darkness.
Phantoms group around me. Their ugly heads roam from side to side. Hollow eyes stare me down. Cheshire cat’s grins mock me, waiting to tear me apart.
“They’re not real, not real, not real...” I chant, attempting to close my lids.
An invisible hand wraps around my throat. I gasp, my lungs pleading for inexistent oxygen.
“D...ad...dy...” I choke out, but Dad isn’t here. There’s only another hand that stretches inside my chest. It squeezes my heart as if tying it with ropes.
My hand reaches to my cold, wet neck in a hopeless try to loosen the choking. My other hand clutches the side of my breast, desperately trying to stop my heart from bursting out.
Somehow, I end up curled on the ground. A whimper escapes my lips as salty tears seep into my dry mouth.
My limbs twitch in a continuous spasm. This isn’t a nightmare. This is real.
The punishing hurricane wrecks my insides. It shreds every cell. Destroys all thoughts. My body begs it to stop.
But it won’t.
The attacks will keep coming, over and over, until someone gets me out of this black hell.
My only option is the same psycho who coerced me to it.
Chapter Nine
Aaron
Twenty-one years ago,
I can’t breathe. It’s suffocatingly dark.
A soft material shoves on my face. No air comes into my lungs. I strain to turn my head sideways, but a force keeps me locked in place.
I thrash, fingertips digging into the bony hands holding the choking material. My lungs scream for oxygen and my energy soon wears out. My strangled breaths no longer come out and neither do my struggles.
Why isn’t my heart buzzing in my ears like in the stories I read? Why am I so... calm? I already figured I’m unusual, but this situation should be different. Right?
“What are you doing?” Mother screams, her voice reaching me in a hazy wave. The pillow is yanked off my face.
A wild rush of oxygen invades my chest. I cough. The intensity of life kicking back into my limbs saturates my lungs. Jasmine contorts my stomach. It smells like the horses’ damp in the mud.
Soft, shaky fingers encircle my face, and push my hair back. Lavender takes over jasmine.
“Are you okay, baby?” Mother’s concerned expression strikes me with spring. Only the flowers in her spring were slowly withering ever since Aunt’s death a few months ago. Her face is pale, wide teary eyes staring at me.
I nod.
A stomp on the floor turns my attention to the woman standing a few metres away. My grandmother – or Madam Rhodes as she likes everyone to call her – is wearing a long black dress.
The one she reserves for funerals.
Her bony hand clutches her cane tightly. Even from this distance, her jasmine perfume still nauseates me.
“He should die.” There’s an edge to Grandmother’s usually posh voice.
“Have you lost your mind?” Mother cries, holding me close to her chest. “He’s your grandchild!”
Grandmother doesn’t even flinch at Mother’s unusual high-pitched voice. She points her cane at me. “He’s an abnormality that will cause trouble to our name. It’s better to get rid of him now before it’s too late.”
“He’s not an abnormality!” Mother holds me even closer, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. “He’s my child! My only baby!”
Mother’s arms strangle me. I want to ease off the pressure, but this isn’t the right time to interfere.
Grandmother’s wrinkled hand stomps the cane. “He’s wrong in the head. It’s better to deal with his type when they’re children. I will rectify my mistake of not dealing with Arthur and Ariel by making him go away even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Mother glares at her, an uncommon fierceness fires the depths of her stormy eyes. “Arthur is the duke and the master of the estate, not you. Do you think he’ll be happy to find out you tried to kill his son?”
“Insolent! You wouldn’t dare!”
Mother smiles, her voice as calm as Uncle’s fishing pond. “I would do anything to protect my child.”
My gaze shifts between Mother and Grandmother. Jasmine and lavender. Spring and mud. Do I even want to take a side?
‘No, you don’t,’ Aunt whispers in her cold voice. ‘You have me. You always picked me.’
I nod to myself. Winter is indeed more interesting. It confuses me still, but it’s a lot better than rare motherly and disgusting mud.
“What’s going on here?”
All attention darts to Father’s deep voice. He enters the room with an imposing presence that forces everyone to look his way.
He’s tall and overpowering. His presence always sucked air from his surroundings. I learnt to hold my breath around him since a long time ago.
Still in his business suit, his dark gaze – identical to mine – shifts between the three of us. He lingers on Mother before facing Grandmother.
“What are you doing in my quarters, Madam Rhodes?” His tone is calmer than Mother’s voice earlier, but there’s an edge to it that only those who know Father can recognise.
“N-nothing,” Grandmother’s trembling fingers stiffen around the cane.
“Tell him the truth or I will, Madam Rhodes.” Mother’s arms tighten further around my shoulders.
Grandmother shakes her head, but that doesn’t stop Mother from addressing Father, “Oh, Arthur! She tried to suffocate Aaron t
o death. If I didn’t come in time, our baby...” Mother chokes on her words, more tears fall unchecked.
Father’s neutral expression doesn’t change.
Not even a twitch of his finger.
“Insolent!” Grandmother lifts her cane and brings it down, but before it connects with Mother’s bare legs, Father catches and twists it, forcing Grandmother to let go.
“Madam Rhodes,” he says in a low voice. The serious angry tone. Grandmother flinches backwards as he speaks, “I thought I told you not to interfere with my family. I will give you a second chance because you are the woman who gave birth to me. If this happens again, you will no longer be welcome in the estate.”
He hands her back the cane. Grandmother gulps, eyes wide still.
“Goodnight, Mother.” Father smiles, watching Grandmother limp out of my room.
He edges close to the bed. His intense black eyes consider me with a look I can’t categorise in his usual seriousness, anger, or indifference.
“Are you well?” he asks.
I nod. He nods back. And just like that, his gaze switches to Mother— serious this time. “What did I say about crying in front of others?”
Her arms unwrap from my shoulders, and she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Come.” Father’s harsh voice takes over. “We have a long night ahead of us.”
Mother sighs and kisses my forehead. “Close the door with keys and sleep tight, baby.”
“There’s no need for keys,” Father says. “She will not risk my wrath.”
Should I ask them why Grandmother hates me so much?
Better not, Father isn’t in his best mood.
With one last kiss to my forehead, Mother stands and follows Father out.
My hand fiddles with the pillow that almost finished my life.
Is it that normal for a Grandmother to suffocate her grandchild?
Where’s Aunt Ariel’s voice when I need it?
I’m sure Uncle Alexander knows. He’s Madam Rhodes’ son too. Unlike my father, I can reach out to him. He doesn’t judge me. He just listens.
I jump out of bed and head to his chambers.